rder that
he might appear to be speaking calmly, "I don't know, in any case, what
I shall do." And his face looked grey and worn, conveying to Rachel, as
she looked across at him, an impression of helpless old age in the
father who had hitherto been to her a type of everything that was
capable and well preserved. She sprang up and went to him.

"Father, dear father," she cried amidst her sobs, as she hid her face on
his shoulder. "You know that you are more to me than any one else in the
world. Let me help you--let me try, do let me try." And at the sound of
the words Gore became again conscious of the immeasurable, dark gulf
there was between what one human being had been able to do for him and
what any other in the world could try to do. And his own sorrow rose
darkly before him and swept away everything else--even the sorrow of his
child. It was almost bitterly that he said, as if the words were wrung
from him involuntarily--

"Nobody can help me now."

"Oh, father!" Rachel cried again miserably. "Let me try."

"Darling, I know," he said, recollecting himself at the sight of her
distress, "and you know what my little girl is to me; but there are some
things that even a daughter cannot do. And," he went on, "it would
really be a comfort to me, I think, if"--he was going to say, "if you
were married," but he altered it as he saw a swift change pass over
Rachel's face--"if I knew you were happy; if you had a home of your own
and were provided for."

"Do you think that would be a comfort to you?" asked Rachel, trying to
speak in an almost indifferent tone. "That you would be glad if I were
to go away from you to a home of my own?"

"Yes," he said, "I think it would." And as he spoke he felt that the
burden of giving Rachel companionship and trying to help her to bear her
grief would be removed from him. "Besides," he went on, with an attempt
at a smile, "it is not as if you would go far away from me altogether;
you will only be a few streets off, after all. I could come to you
whenever I wanted, and even--who knows?--I might sometimes ask you for
your hospitality."

"If I thought _that_----" Rachel said, and caught herself up.

"You know," her father said more seriously, "we have been discussing
this from one point of view only, from mine; but you are the person most
concerned, and I am taking for granted that, from your point of view, it
would be the best thing to do--that you would be happy."

"If I only tho